


Rescue

by mangomunkki



Category: Guild Wars 2 (Video Game)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, M/M, thank you generic bandits for your service
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-29
Updated: 2020-07-29
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:42:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26092075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mangomunkki/pseuds/mangomunkki
Summary: Passio is, usually, very good at not being caught. The other times, though? It's what he has Sage for.
Relationships: Sage Morreale/Kärsimyspassio
Collections: Commander Firnüel





	Rescue

The desert suited Passio well. It was comfortably warm, nice and dry, and most of the aggressive local fauna was easy enough to avoid. He listened to his travel companions, namely Sage, grumble about the sand and it getting everywhere, amused. It was almost like their roles had been reversed for the duration of their stay – where it usually was him complaining about the weather or the environment, now it was him laughing off Sage's whining about it being hot and annoying. He turned his face skyward, soaking up the bright midday sun. He didn't mind being here at all.

One annoying thing they just didn't seem to be able to shake were a variant of bandits. In Elona, said bandits were unfortunately very used to the environment, and didn't shy away from utilising it to their advantage. Being ambushed on the sand dunes wasn't ideal, as the piled up sand under their feet slipped and kept them perpetually unsteady, but they could deal. A group of bandits wasn't that big a deal, not after all they'd already gone through. His daggers work just fine, he'd just have to focus on his footing a bit more. Easily done.

As the sand storm whipped up, unexpected and sudden, Passio swore, suddenly missing his Whispers hood. While annoying as hell, and stuffy, and itchy, it did offer him some cover from the elements, and right now, with sand blasting straight at his eyes, he could really use it. The sand storm was heavier than normal, reducing his visibility to straight up zero – everywhere he looked, there was just a wall of sand obscuring his vision, and the roar of the wind drowned out his ears enough that trying to find the rest of the team was tough. He heard an odd crunch from behind, turned to investigate. Instead of answers, he received a hard blow to his head. The force of it knocked him straight down to the ground, swears on his tongue. Head fuzzy, he felt himself being picked up by someone, rough and almost hasty. "I've got the plant! Retreat, retreat", they hollered, and then Passio's eyes slipped closed.

He came to, feeling like the morning after a big celebration, the back of his head pounding and vision strangely blurry. He blinked once, twice, getting his eyes to focus a little bit better, enough so he could see around him. He was in... a cave? The flickering torchlights cast jumping shadows on the red stone walls, and he heard conversation echoing from somewhere in front of him.

He tried to stand up, his legs straight up disobeying him, not even budging. The fuck? He switched his focus to his arms, trying to lift one up. After a ridiculously big effort, he managed to raise his hand in front of him, fingers wrapping around a cold, steel bar. Taking a shuddering breath, he focused, chasing his fleeting thoughts back together. So, he was in a cage. In a cage, in some cave somewhere. And, judging by the leaden weight of his limbs and his inability to coordinate his thoughts, he'd been dosed with enough basilisk venom to knock a dolyak out. Had he not grown a tolerance for the stuff thanks to his own fondness of using it, he would probably still be out like a light. His fingers gripping the cage bar tightened, betraying all of the anger he felt but couldn't muster the strength to voice aloud. What was he meant to do now?

He couldn't really stage an escape attempt, not when he was like this, so he sat and listened. The bandits, because that's what his captors were, seemed distracted enough by their argument that no one noticed him having woken up.

"Come on, you had one job! Just the one, and you fucked that up." This guy sounded like the boss of the group, Passio thought, judging by the way he was berating the rest of the group. Were he able to see their faces, he could have maybe tried to identify them and see who were the ones who actually attacked them, but in the relative dimness of the cave he had to go by voices only.

"Don't you 'come on' me, you bastard, you weren't even there! Those people fight like demons, not exactly a lot of time to try and recognise the right one." The comment quirked Passio's lip up, he'd have to remember that one. It certainly wasn't meant as a compliment, of that he was sure, but he'd take it, still. The other speaker wasn't done yet, spitting on the ground before continuing.

"The bounty didn't mention there being multiple of those freaks in there! It said 'plant', I saw a plant and I grabbed it. You should've given us better instructions."

"Oh, shut up, both of you!" A third voice, feminine. She sounded, if possible, even more pissed off than the others. "You fucked up, big time. What are we even going to do with that one, then? Can't exactly just let it go."

"Maybe it's worth some gold, too? It clearly isn't a local, maybe the Commander would even be willing to pay a pretty penny to get it back. Those plant freaks are meant to be connected together, aren't they? We can profit from this, too."

Passio's brow furrowed, an urge to get up and pace appearing in his mind. Still, the venom coursed its way through his veins, and he couldn't. So, he weighed his options, instead, the anger in him making it tough to focus. He wasn't meant to be the one taken, clearly. These people were after Firn, who, apparently, had a bounty on his head now. For what, he couldn't really imagine, but surely, given the waves he made, there was someone out there with a bone to pick. Passio resisted the urge to sigh. Fucking _great_.

The bandits were right about one thing, though. Firn didn't leave people behind. He'd come for him, eventually. The only question was, how long would that take? He really hoped Taimi had installed a tracker in the communicators she'd doled out for the team. She probably had. So, would he have to just wait for his rescue, then? This was why he hated the idea of being captured.

His thoughts flicked to his lockpicks, sure that even if he'd been stripped of his weapons, there was no way the bandits could've found all of them, especially judging by their apparent distaste for his sylvari-ness. A glance at his hands, still limp and all but useless, crushed that train of thought. No way was he in a condition to start picking locks, even if the big one hanging from the cage looked like it was both old and ridiculously easy to crack.

He sat, and waited, and kept on watching. The group of bandits was surprisingly large, consisting of at least fifteen or so members. They'd set up in a large cavern, probably dug into a side of a mountain, with just a boarded up plank door covering the entrance. From where his cage was, at the very back of the cave, Passio could easily see everything that happened, save for the couple of side rooms branching off and disappearing. He listened to the bandits go about their business, conversations and arguments easily brought to him by their loud volume – why was it that everything they said had to be shouted? Honestly, it made his eavesdropping way too easy – and tried to keep track of time.

He wondered, himself, how come he was so sure the rest of Dragon's Watch would come for him. After all, both of the groups he'd worked with before, the pirates and the Order of Whispers, didn't care that much about their operatives. If you got captured, that was on you, and there was no point in waiting for a rescue that wouldn't come. Still, a feeling deep in him insisted, this was different. He knew they wouldn't leave him. He knew _Sage_ wouldn't leave him. Unable to really argue with that, he settled back on his knees. He'd be fine.

He was startled out of his thoughts by a sudden noise at the door. He barely had time to focus his eyes on the door when the whole thing was broken apart, a burst of bright light and blue flame obliterating it. There, in the doorway, framed by the setting sun, stood Sage, and he'd never been more glad to see him.

The bandits halted in their activities, scrambling to defend against the unexpected intrusion, yelling out loud about what the hell happened to their lookout. Passio felt a smug smile tweak at his lip. A single bandit lookout wasn't much against an experienced Whispers agent armed with a longbow. Sage strode into the cavern, his voice rising above the chaos.

"Where is he?" His usually smooth, friendly, warm voice was an enraged roar, full of cold wrath, and Passio could've sworn he could _see_ the blue flames dancing on his shoulders, the divine flame burning bright, brighter than ever. "Answer me, you pieces of shit!" Sage didn't have time to receive an answer to his question, as his eyes, roving the cavern, locked with Passio's. He could see him take in his state, how he was kneeling in a dingy cage, glow subdued despite the shade around him.

The fury on his features made the previous anger pale in comparison. "You void-forsaken bastards better not have harmed a single frond on his head", he swore, the light aura around him flaring brighter, brighter, brighter. Gripping his sword tighter, he lunged at the nearest bandit.

Sage was an efficient fighter, that much Passio had grown to know during the years. He got the job done, dispatching of a foe and then moving to the next. Still, watching him cleave a path through the cave, the bandits dropping one by one, most not even managing to lay a single strike on him, had him reassessing his opinion of him. Armed with enough anger, he became all but unstoppable. 'Fight like demons', indeed.

The last bandit crumbled to the floor with a choked groan, cut short by Sage's sword piercing through his windpipe. Not even bothering to clean his blade, Sage rushed over to the cage, cupping his cheek through the bars. "Paz, are you okay?"

Apparently the way his still-hazed eyes met Sage's was an answer enough, as Sage swore, eyes flicking to the lock keeping the cage closed. "Okay, just... just hang in there. I'm getting you out." He lifted his sword again, not even bothering to try picking the lock – then again, that had always been Passio's thing –, and cut clean through it. The glyphs and divine flame fuelling Sage's sword ensured the metal stood no chance, as the lock fell on the ground with a dull thud, its mechanism broken.

With the door now unlocked, Passio realised with a start that leaning on it was probably a bad idea. Still unable to really move his limbs, thanks to the venom, he inhaled, getting ready to meet the ground. Luckily, the cage wasn't that high up.

Before he could tumble to the dirt, he met Sage's arms, flopping into his lap all but bonelessly. Sage had caught him, why should he be surprised, he _always_ caught him.

Passio realised Sage was talking to him, he should probably answer, but his head was just so comfortable here, leaning against Sage's chest, nostrils filled with the scent of tobacco – he'd been stress smoking again, hadn't he. Willing his tongue to co-operate, he hummed.

"You came."

Sage squeezed him tighter, lips on his forehead. "Of course I came. I always will.”


End file.
